nostomanic

OG Brooklyn Hipsters: The Fashion of Ghostwriter

2012-01-02T11:57:00.000-08:00

Ghostwriter aired on PBS from 1992 to 1995. It was an educational show that taught kids the importance of reading, writing, vigilante justice, and communicating with ghosts.

Every week, the multi-ethnic, middle-school-age crew would traipse around the streets of Brooklyn unsupervised (not unlike the kids from Nickelodeon's Hey Arnold), sticking their little Ghostwriter noses in everyone's business and killing it with their cutting edge outfits.

Jamal, the leader of the group, loved his Cross Colours. But even when he wasn't wearing "post hip hop nation academic hard wear" he stuck to the brand's green-yellow-red-black color scheme and urban aesthetic. Sometimes he'd put on a Malcolm X shirt or some chunky ethnic beads because he was in touch with his heritage. Other times he'd carry around a baseball glove because he was in touch with his boyness. His flattop was high enough to be fly but not so high as to be unsophisticated.

Jamal also had some kind of futuristic word processing program that turned his computer screen totally blue.

Latchkey kid Lenni Frazier was not only the most fashion forward girl in Fort Greene but was by far the most fashion forward kid of the '90s. (Clarissa Darling wished she looked this fresh.)

She was a budding musician and had that kind of bold, artsy, singer-songwriter, I-live-above-a-bodega style. Lenni, who was definitely the coolest member of the group, owned the sickest green Dr. Martens.

If I ever stop being poor, I'm going to buy a pair of these, for sure. Just look at the reaction they get from the fellas!

Humunuh, humunuh, humunuh boner!

Alex (or Alejandro) usually just threw on some over-sized tee and called it a day but from time to time he'd dip into his silk, printed button-down collection. Once he wore one of these super classy numbers while sitting in an incredibly natural position and decoding a message written on blue paper. (Blue paper and blue computer screens were all the rage among preteen detective necromancers.)

I can't even begin to explain how much I loved this kid. He was cute, tall, wore a gold chain--basically, he had everything I wanted in a boyfriend when I was 9 years old.

Gaby was Alex's little sister and, of all the Ghostwriter kids, her style was most in line with the kind of stuff I was wearing to elementary school back in the day. For Gaby--and also for me--1992 was all about gigantic shirts and spandex. She, however, rocked her spandex with a lot more panache than I did. What I appreciate most about Gaby's style is that there wasn't anything pretentious about it--she was a genuine around-the-way-girl. I also really appreciate her enormous, backwards sleep shirt.

I'm thinking about wearing one of these out and about. IT LOOKS THAT GOOD!

Tina, Gaby's BFF and Alex's crush, dressed liked a Cosby kid. If I could raid the closet of any member of the Ghostwriter team it'd be Tina's--her button-downs are the stuff of dreams. Oh, and these shoes...

yeah, I used to have, like, 15 pairs of these.

Rob, the sensitive transfer student, wrote poetry and palled around with homeless peeps. The bandannas that he loved so dearly covered a gorgeous '90s-boy-center-part.

If we don't count the time Jamal wore this wonderful ensemble...

Rob was probably the best dressed guy on the show.

Ghostwriter Season 1 fashion highlights

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Vintage Amber: The AT&T commercial that bore absolutely no resemblance to life as I knew it in the mid to late 90s

2011-12-18T23:43:00.000-08:00

This was one of my favorite commercials when I was in high school because it depicted my romantic ideal as well as my technological ideal.

As I've mentioned before, (non homeless/non elderly) guys didn't show any interest in me until I was in my 20s, so the back and forth between Larisa Oleynik and her romeo--with his perfect '90s-boy center-part--was totally foreign and almost unfathomable to me. I didn't get the internet or a halfway decent computer until I was a sophomore in high school, so all of the technology in this commercial seemed very futuristic and confusing. Though I now have a boyfriend and a pretty sweet MacBook, I still have some trouble relating to/understanding this commercial.

So maybe things are different when you're younger (or super cute), but as an adult, if I were to send a guy an "I miss you soooo much" email right after seeing him not only would he not email me back but he would never talk to me again. Also, this font is soooo large. Is this what all emails looked like in the '90s?

I like that their font choice correlates to their gender. Hers is cursivey and girly while his is bold and masculine. I'm glad that we've made so much progress when it comes to fonts and gender roles.

I don't think I could pull this off. Wait, let me try.

I was wrong. Nailed it.

Is this a scanner? A fax machine? Do fax machines work like scanners? I actually think this commercial would be very erotic if they were just faxing each other all night long.

What is this face? I think that he thought that he was going to get a naked pic. I do remember hearing that email in the olden days was primarily used for sending naked pics.

Did computer screens used to go black right after you sent an email (by pressing the "send email" key)?

So this is what guys like. I'm starting to understand why I failed so horribly with the opposite sex.

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Best picture ever?

2011-12-15T19:36:00.000-08:00

Former U.S. prez Bill Clinton and former U.S. vice prez Al Gore are like the patron saints of Democrats. Remember that time Clinton went to North Korea and got American journalists Euna Lee and Laura Ling out of prison by serenading Kim Jong-il with some smooth, jazzy sax playing? Or what about the time that Al Gore told us about global warming and we were all like, "whoa, Al, that's a really inconvenient truth, thanks for sharing your wisdom with us"? Clinton and Gore are also a couple of dreamboats. If there's a picture on the internet more provocative than this, I certainly haven't seen it. After staring at Clinton's thighs for 45 minutes, I understand why Monica Lewinsky couldn't resist him.

Billy, billy, billy, can't you see? Sometimes your thighs just hypnotize me. And I just love your flashy ways. I guess that's why they broke and you're so paid.

(photo)

A Guide to Recognizing Your D.J.s

2011-12-12T08:02:00.000-08:00

I never knew anyone named D.J. when I was a kid, yet I grew up with two people named D.J. Maybe you experienced something similar.

The First Thanksgiving (Abridged)

2011-11-23T19:17:00.001-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving...I guess.

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What the Kids Are Watching: Jessie

2011-11-10T09:36:00.001-08:00

With all of my student loan problems under control, right now, my biggest concern isn't that I'll get thrown into some Dickensian debtor's prison/that I'll have the sort of horrible credit score that'll prevent me from purchasing the robo-hacienda style condo of my dreams, it's that someone will walk in on me while I'm watching Jessie--this inane Disney Channel show loosely based on the child procurement practices of the Jolie-Pitts.

Here's what the Disney Channel website has to say about the show and the characters (I've included a few annotations):

The only thing more disconcerting than being inexplicably compelled to watch Jessie is that while visiting the show's website I was actually excited about the prospect of playing "hide and seek with the Ross kids."

On one level, watching Jessie is just one more manifestation of my struggle to stay young--I really became aware of my age when I read this comment on YouTube:

What the hell is this person talking about? If you know what any of these things are or understand the use of the interrobang (!?) at the end of the sentence I am super jealous of you and your youth.

On another level, I think we're all genetically predisposed to watching shows about rich kids who are being cared for by working class people. Jessie was created by the same woman who created Charles in Charge AND the Nanny!?

Oh, and can any young people reading this please explain how Wizards of Waverly Place backfired?

My Birthday + My Blog's Birthday = Double Birthday, Oh My God! Double Birthday, All the Way!

2011-11-05T11:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my 28th birthday, peeps! I did it! I've officially lived longer than Jimi Hendrix! I think that's pretty impressive. Especially when you consider the fact that I just got health insurance after 3 years without coverage.

It's also the two year anniversary of this blog! I did it! I've officially been blogging longer than Jimi Hendrix! Anyway, thank you, errbody. I really appreciate your hilarious comments and I'm glad your folks decided to have sex the day you were conceived. This song is for you from me and Jon B featuring Babyface:

My goals for this, my 28th year of life, are to (a) survive (b) continue blogging and (c) become BFF with Matthew McConaughey. Matt and I share a b-day and if we become BFF, November 4, 2012 has the potential to be rad.

First, I'd help Matt work on his abs, delts, and glutes during one of his impromptu, open-air exercise sessions.

Then, we'd invite Sam Rockwell over and taunt him for being born on Nov. 5 instead of Nov. 4 (like most cool people).

We'd end the day with nude bongo playing.

I have small boobs.

Once again, thanks for reading, commenting, following, etc. J.K. livin', you guys, j.k. livin'.

Gage Creed: Undead Toddler, Dark Prince of Fashion, The Littlest Dandy

2011-10-23T18:17:00.000-07:00

Behold your style icon, people!

Most see Stephen King's Pet Sematary as nothing more than your standard horror movie about a kid brought back from the dead who slices up everybody's portentously exposed ankles with a scalpel. But today I'm here to tell you that that interpretation is completely off base. You see, Pet Sematary is actually about the meteoric rise and fall of style wunderkind Gage Creed.

The movie begins with tiny, innocent Gage getting hit and killed by a speeding semi truck. His guilt-ridden father Louis deposits him in an ancient Indian burial ground because (a) who wouldn't? And (b) this particular plot of land has the power to bring the dead back to life.

Unfortunately, boringly dressed Louis is completely unprepared for the sort of sartorial drama that has historically been linked to ancient Indian burial grounds.

When Gage died, he was your basic toddler, wearing diapers and OshKosh B'gosh. But he was reborn a dandy, undoubtedly pulling inspiration from the likes of Oscar Wilde and Charles Baudelaire.

No one is able to deal with Gage's newly discovered fierceness.

They're all intimidated by his preternatural ability to smile with his eyes (aka "smize").

They try to stifle his creativity, dissuade him from making such bold and unconventional fashion choices. So, he has to kill them.

What else could he do? There was no other way that he'd ever be able to express himself. Louis is unable to come to grips with all of this--I'm sure, secretly, he was more than a little bit jealous of Gage's little velvet off the shoulder number--and kills his son.

Gage stays fierce until the very end.

Vintage Amber: The 1991 news story that confused everyone at my day camp

2011-10-12T20:32:00.000-07:00

That morning, some kid who I didn’t really know—but who probably had a rat tail since everyone had a rat tail that summer—ran into the wood paneled activity room of our day camp and rather loudly announced the news.

My heart sank.

Pee-wee was a really important part of my life, quite possibly the most important part of my life (I had all the toys, my very own Pee-wee’s playhouse, and of course watched the show EVERY Saturday).

How could this loud-mouth kid be so cavalier about such positively tragic news?

Unfortunately, the kid didn’t know why Pee-wee had been arrested—either his parents had shielded him from this crucial bit of info or he didn’t understand what indecent exposure was—so for the rest of the day, the group of 7 and 8 year-olds that I was kickin’ it with that summer speculated about how Pee-wee had managed to land himself in the pokey.

At one point, a boy came up to us and said, “I heard Pee-wee robbed a bank.”

This seemed logical. So logical, in fact, that I repeated it with complete certainty when my mom came to pick me up that afternoon.

A day or two later, I found out why he’d really been arrested. Because I didn’t know that there were porno movie houses or that there was even a thing called porn, I thought that he’d “exposed himself” at a run-of the-mill theater while watching something like Beauty and the Beast or City Slickers.

Anyway, I didn’t find what he’d done too appalling, as I had recently become obsessed with flipping the bird to no one in particular whenever I was in dark public spaces (movie theaters, Space Mountain at Disneyland, et al.)

I guess I sort of connected our two transgressions in my mind—perhaps thinking that he’d done that thing he did to achieve the sort of exhilaration that comes with being a super sneaky scofflaw.

Ultimately, the most disturbing part of the whole incident was finding out that Pee-wee Herman wasn’t Pee-wee Herman at all. He was some dude named Paul Reubens.

I don't think that I've ever been as thoroughly disillusioned.

Where were you when you found out about Pee-wee?

I have a feeling that Abraham Lincoln was sexy under that top hat

2011-10-03T16:35:00.000-07:00

Like everyone else, I often wonder what super intelligent and influential historical figures would look like with Ninja Turtle/True Blood abs. I drew the following sketches, first and foremost, to satisfy my curiosity but also realized that they could serve as a masturbatory aid for history buffs (history buff = person who gets his/her jollies by looking at olden days peeps naked). I have yet to encounter topless photos, paintings, or daguerreotypes of any of these men, so who's to say they didn't look like this? Seriously, WHO'S TO SAY??

Abe Lincoln

Abe was so studly that the people at the U.S. mint or department of the treasury or whatever were like, "we need to put this man's face on the $5 bill AND the penny!" And everyone in America was like, "that's a really good idea. You guys know what's up." 19th century a-hole, John Wilkes Booth, killed our second hot president (Franklin Pierce being the first) because he was jealous of Abe's beard-growing prowess. (Booth did have a douchey little mustache but every time he tried to grow a beard it would come in all patchy like Keanu Reeves's.)

Isaac Newton

Isaac Newton discovered apples and invented gravity. Despite being naturally sexy, he wore a wig because he was self-conscious about his unconventional good looks. In terms of hotness, Isaac Newton was the Alan Rickman of the late-17th/early-18th century. In terms of cleverness, Isaac Newton was the Isaac Newton of the late-17th/early-18th century.

Nikola Tesla

Tesla was a Serbian immigrant who came to America because he thought it would be a good time but then had all of his brilliant ideas stolen by Thomas Edison, history's biggest prick. One time, Tesla sent 200,000 volts of electricity through his body just for the hell of it and everyone watching was like, "OMG, Tesla! That was frickin' sweet!" Eventually, he became David Bowie and helped Hugh Jackman clone himself. Christian Bale ended up being hanged in jail but it was OK 'cause he had a twin brother. Michael Caine was there too.

Frederick Douglass

Frederick Douglass was born a slave but escaped to the North where people were more willing to accept how badass he was. He wrote Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave and some white people were like, "there's no way a black man could've written that." Douglass was pretty chill and was just like, "I'm super smart, I totally wrote this book, stop being so racist." In time, he became buds with Abe Lincoln and the two of them would just hang out and try to figure out how to make the country better. The cool thing about their relationship was that Douglass never kissed Abe's ass; he always called the President out on his shit and Abe respected that about him.

Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe was such a weirdo. He married his 13-year-old first cousin.

Johannes Kepler

Johannes Kepler was a German astronomer whose neck was so sexy that he had to keep it covered at all times lest he incite a wave of spontaneous orgasming. For a while, he worked with Tycho Brahe who is famous for holding his pee for too long and then dying. After Brahe died, Kepler took his place as imperial mathematician--a job that sounds kind of awesome and mystical but really just means that he was the Holy Roman Empire's preeminent nerd.

Lewis and Clark

Lewis and Clark worked for the Daily Planet. Clark was secretly Superman. Sometimes they hung out with Sacagawea.

A Quick, Objective Look at Kenan and Kel

2011-09-21T16:45:00.000-07:00

You know that it's objective because there are charts and stuff.

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A Short List of Sweet Nothings That I Wish Jeff Goldblum Would Whisper Into My Ear

2011-09-12T16:16:00.000-07:00

Jeff Goldblum speaks slowly, dramatically. He stutters in that way that bookish men sometimes do. Everything he says is peppered with pensive grunts and pregnant pauses. He stares, contemplatively, off into the middle distance. Sometimes, when we're lucky, he'll raise a finger to his bottom lip, thoughtfully.

Jeff Goldblum is, ah, perpetually...um, in the process of-of-of deducing something. He's also the guy you're gonna want to stand next to if you need to be close to someone with the absolute perfect amount of chest hair.

We'll never know precisely how many 12-year-old girls in the mid-90s nursed debilitating Jeff Goldblum infatuations, but I can assure you that the number is higher than you'd probably expect. When I was in middle school, I regularly fantasized about Jeff Goldblum. As I got older, those fantasies didn't cease, they merely became more elaborate.

This isn't some kind of strange sexual euphemism, I'd really just like to feel that Jeff cares enough about my health to pay attention to my eating habits.

This, on the other hand, is some kind of strange sexual euphemism.

(This may actually be the first time that I've creeped myself out with something that I've posted here.)
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You're cordially invited to the Jeff Goldblum YouTube par-tay.

I like how he touches Laura Dern's hair at 0:54. Smooth.

My Idol: Fuller McCallister

2011-09-02T00:21:00.000-07:00

My dream is to one day write, direct, and produce Home Alone. 5--the movie that could've and should've come between Home Alone and Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. It starts out just like Home Alone--every scene is exactly the same--but instead of following Kevin McCallister and all his shenanigans, it's about Fuller, Kevin's cousin/the most compelling character in the movie, and whatever was going on with him during the time that Kevin was alone in his home.

Fuller McCallister is my idol because he wears suspenders and because he has fly hair, but mostly because he never, ever goes easy on the Pepsi. He knows drinking Pepsi before bedtime is just going to make him pee all over the place and he knows that everyone knows this about him, but he doesn't care. He hits that Pepsi hard and fast. Fuller hits that Pepsi like a champ. There's a lesson to be learned there, my friends. A lesson about Pepsi and how you should never go easy on it.

In another world, Fuller and I are BFF. We devote whole evenings to not going easy on Pepsi.

After these marathon Pepsi binges, we inevitably slip into a sugar induced quasi coma and end up peeing all over the hide-a-bed...

and Kevin.

It's really gross, I know. But what are you gonna do? Go easy on the Pepsi? Yeah right. When I die, my headstone will read: Here lies Amber. She did not go easy on the Pepsi. Her pee was bright yellow and globular.

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Can this song please be my ringtone?

To: Paul Reiser. Re: The Fact That I Hate You.

2011-08-30T10:41:00.000-07:00

Paul,
I am a bit of a 90s connoisseur, so I think I can say with some authority that you, with your wry observations about upper-middle class relationships, are as quintessentially of that decade as Ethan Hawke's hair in Reality Bites or using the phrase, "It's the 90s" to denote a social paradigm shift. During the 90s you were practically meta-90s (See Bye, Bye Love; Mad About You; the light wash of your high-waisted, slim-fit, tapered-leg jeans). Having said this, I hate you. I love the 90s but hate you. How is this possible? After spending many long seconds puzzling over this paradox I've finally arrived at an answer: You're lame.

OK, so I'll give you My Two Dads, a show that made me want to (a) live in a loft, (b) have a family court judge at my beck and call, and of course, (c) be the precocious daughter of two dads who are polar opposites--one neurotic, one with an acid wash jean jacket.

But you lose any cred that you may have garnered there with this:

The cover of your book Babyhood (the follow-up to Couplehood and harbinger of Familyhood) is the single creepiest and most baffling thing I've seen all day. What is that baby gripping your ear supposed to symbolize? Or maybe it isn't supposed to symbolize anything. Maybe a large bulk of being a parent is literally just sitting around with your head slightly tilted to the right as a baby holds onto your ear with one of its hands and offers sweet consolation with the other.

You, Paul Reiser, are my least favorite 90s artifact. I hope this doesn't offend you. It's just the simple truth.

Mad about you in the sense that I hate you and not in the sense that I'm crazy for you,

Amber

Bummer #2: Angels in the Outfield

2011-08-22T20:20:00.000-07:00

With complete, innocent, and sort of enviable Christian sincerity, a friend of mine once told me that she'd be thrilled to finally be face-to-face with her guardian angel. As far as I'm concerned, there's no scenario where an angel just appearing out of nowhere could be anything less than 100% horrifying.

Despite the foreboding title, Angels in the Outfield is not a horror film; it's one of those heart-tugging, inspirational jobs.

But it's also kind of a drag.

Perhaps, not an overt or overwhelming drag like My Girl, but it definitely has it's moments. One scene specifically sticks out in my mind and, next to the phrase "it could happen," is what I associate most with this movie...

Al and his seraphim horde have "helped" the last-place California Angels advance to the division championship. When the final game starts, Al materializes in the dugout and tells Roger that the team must win this one on their own--angels apparently have a real arbitrary sense of morality. Al then serves up a delicious piece of gossip about grizzled pitcher Mel Clark--who'd been taken off the disabled list during the initial stages of the angel infestation.

Mel only has six months to live and Al delivers the news with such nonchalance, sort of sugar-coating the tragedy of it by saying that after Mel eventually succumbs to lung cancer or emphysema or whatever (Al mentions that Mel has been a smoker for years), he's going to become an angel.

Wings are cool; not being dead is slightly cooler.

This scene probably isn't going to make anyone cry, but still, it's a total bummer. It's also incredibly calculated, obviously meant to heighten the emotional drama and give the outcome of this championship game more weight. Al says he's dropped by to "check up on Mel." Seriously, what's he checking? I'm no expert on the subject but I'm pretty sure that angels can "check up" on people from Heaven or the 8th dimension or wherever they're from. So, why is he really there? The whole thing feels kind of contrived and plot device-y. Somehow, though, that fails to diminish my enjoyment of Mel slow-mo catching that game-winning ball.

In spite of my usual anti-angel stance, I'm definitely pro-Angels in the Outfield. Sometimes, I suppose, it's all right to have your heart manipulated a bit by conveniently tragic plot points, if that manipulation is (a) in service of a really good finale and (b) thorough enough to spawn two direct-to-video sequels.

The Fountain of Youth: I Made A Fort

2011-08-19T12:08:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I officially came out of fort-building retirement to create this masterpiece. Those who've seen it (i.e. my cat) have called it "an elegant study in symmetry, proportion, and draping sheets over stuff." It took a total of 10 minutes to construct and because I have hella fort-building skillz, it has yet to collapse. Yes, I slept in it.

The whole process was very organic. I used my bed as the foundation and things that were higher than my bed as posts. The interior of the fort was lined with pillows and couch cushions to maximize the comfy factor while also giving it a touch of opulence.

The end result was a tasteful cross between Hooverville shanty and 12th century harem room. The kick-back vibe was immediately palpable and all of the provisions that I'd brought into my cozy little garrison just made it all the more palpabler.

The DVDs that I chose to accompany me on this journey to the center of myself were Election, Manhattan Murder Mystery, and Freaks and Geeks. I hadn't watched any of these in a while and felt like this super mellow moment would be a great time to reacquaint myself with them.

Sidebar: If you haven't seen Manhattan Murder Mystery you need to get on that tout suite. Not only is it my favorite Woody Allen, it's also an example of a perfect movie--structure, humor, acting, theme, symbolism, everything is perfect.

If you don't currently reside in a fort, my advice to you would be to build one right away. In all honesty, I don't think that I've been more comfortable in my entire adult life. I haven't been especially stressed of late but this whole experience has been extremely relaxing. I've reached a whole new level of chill. I am so zen right now. I feel like Patrick Swayze in Point Break, except forts are to me what waves were to him.

The cutest rappers to ever swing a beat

2011-08-17T18:33:00.000-07:00

Submitted for the approval of the ~~midnight society~~ nostomanic readers: Another Bad Creation.

These kids couldn't be more adorable if they were holding koala bears that were holding kittens that were wearing glasses.

ABC, the teeny, tiny overalls-with-no-shirt-donning proteges of Boyz II Men and Bel Biv DeVoe, were popular during that all too brief period in the early 90s when Atlanta-based little boy rappers were kewl (See Kris Kross.) But as far as my heart's concerned, these kids will always be super legit.

Their biggest hit, "The Playground," was a delightful little "ghetto swing" number about "chillin' in the pizzark" and being "home by dizzark." I, however, prefer "Iesha" as the song has so much to teach us all about romance.

The ABCs of Love

If you're looking for "the one," trade the singles bars in for the monkey bars.

(Check your potential love interest's ID, though. No one's endorsing an underage, jungle gym fever scenario here.)

Ladies, never underestimate the allure of a simple pair of biker shorts.

Spandex is especially effective when courting go-kart enthusiasts.

Planning a date? Skip the fancy restaurants and invite him/her over to your crib. After all, that's where your Nintendo is.

You're also going to want to make sure that you have a sandwich platter with, like, five or six huge bologna sandwiches on it.

Stroking a girl's chin isn't totally creepy.

It's only a little bit creepy. Go for it.

As much as I love "Iesha" and appreciate everything it's taught me about romance, my favorite ABC joint is "Spydermann." I wanted to post a music video for the song but, unfortunately, the group never made one. Fortunately, I made one. You're welcome.

Bummer #1: My Girl

2011-08-15T19:02:00.000-07:00

(I'm introducing a new feature about Hollywood's sick fascination with traumatizing youngsters and the toll that this personally took on me throughout my adolescence and now as an adult. I'm looking to post something new every Monday. What better way to kick things off than with the Godzilla of soul-crushing family films: My Girl.)

Heartwrenching films usually move toward a single grim climax. At which point, we, the audience, tear up, feeling either genuinely moved or emotionally manipulated. The structure of these movies and our reactions to them really just follow that basic plot chart from high school English.

My Girl's structure, however, looks like something you might see on a seismograph.

(click to make bigguh)
My Girl is relentless and it's that lack of emotional respite that makes it so heart-shattering. You watch this movie and you feel like you really went through some shiz.

It's brutal! Every time I sit through My Girl, I spend the last fifteen minutes of the movie crying.

When I was younger, that crying was just straightforward sobbing. These days, though, it's more about me trying and failing to rage against the inevitable tears--the end result being a lot of gulping, hiccuping, and an overwhelming feeling of lunacy. My Girl just hits me on this incredibly visceral level; the government should seriously look into somehow weaponizing it.

Thomas J.'s death is disturbing. Clearly. And when you're ten years old, even if you have a firm grasp on the concept of death, the last person that you expect to see die in a movie is a kid. Especially, a kid with glasses.

Like going to prom or accidentally calling your teacher "mom," crying at the end of My Girl is a rite of passage. I honestly love this movie but I've gotten to the point where I don't need to watch it anymore because (a) life is already depressing enough, I don't need to deliberately inject any tragedy into it and (b) I can't believe or accept how easily Vada gets over her BFF's death. I mean, it was kind of her fault that he died, right?

He was looking for her mood ring when those bees stung him.

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In Which I Take Inspector Gadget and Child Protective Services to Task

2011-08-12T15:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Metro City Department of Social Services,

As a concerned citizen of the world, I felt it my duty to bring to your attention a case of extraordinary negligence and child endangerment.

For some time now, a cyborg by the name of Inspector Gadget has been the sole guardian of a young girl named Penny--apparently she's his niece. I have no beef with the cyborg community and would never question Gadget's ability to provide young Penny with a safe, loving home based merely on his body's organic-to-synthetic-part ratio. Gadget, however, is a police officer or spy or counter-terrorist or something, and this dangerous profession coupled with the fact that he has no IQ to speak of (which may or may not have something to do with the retractable helicopter blades seemingly stored inside of his skull) imperil young Penny's life on an almost daily basis.

Because her uncle is an imbecile, Penny along with her dog Brain, take it upon themselves to solve cases for him. Although she is quite brilliant, inserting herself into Gadget's affairs like this has, resulted in Penny being kidnapped by MAD agents some 45 times. Now, I must ask you: How often does a cute, blonde, pre-teen girl have to be kidnapped by an organized crime syndicate before the government finally intervenes?

When Penny isn't dodging henchmen, a slew of other hazards await.

What's worse, Gadget, who's called "Gadget" because his body is equipped with an infinite array of crime-fighting instruments (well, at least I assume this is the reason...his surname may just be "Gadget), is clumsy and has little to no control over his bionic gizmos. Though, I don't know if Gadget counts samurai swords amongst his assorted tools, I could easily envision him Go-Go-Gadget-skating directly into some kind of katana display, mortally wounding his niece.

I have a feeling that I'm not the first to report this but I pray that I'm the last. It is fundamentally irresponsible for you to allow Penny to remain in Inspector Gadget's custody and for everyone involved to rely so heavily on deus ex machina.

Sincerely,
Amber

A (mostly) Comprehensive Guide to 90s Era Nickelodeon Gingers

2011-08-10T20:44:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a culturally diverse area but I don't think that I actually conversed with anyone of the red-haired persuasion until I was in the 5th grade. It wasn't that I was some baby bigot, specializing in discrimination against the ginger-born; and I definitely wasn't afraid of them, despite the 90 minutes of parental negligence wherein I saw Child's Play, with its ginger antagonist, at the impressionable age of five years old.

There just weren't any redheads around.

Red hair is a recessive trait and only occurs in something like 6% of the American population. So, statistically, it makes sense that, growing up, the only gingers in my life were Lestat--my tabby cat--and his successor Lestat II. (My mom was really into Anne Rice at the time.)

But, if you watched Nickelodeon in the 90s, you probably thought that not having red hair was anomalous.

The inordinate number of carrot tops on these shows leads me to believe that this particular television network was pushing a ginger agenda--pro-red hair propaganda, was the order of the day. Some might be quick to associate this apparent exaltation of the oft-maligned group with the network's orange logo, while others might chalk it up to coincidence. I, on the other hand, liken it to affirmative action--Nickelodeon deliberately promoted follicle diversity. Because of their efforts, kids like me, living in regions of the country seemingly devoid of gingers, were able to understand that "hey, sometimes people have red hair and that's okay." In those days it was about demystification, it was about integration. They were breaking the hair color barrier, and for that, Nickelodeon, I salute you(r shorts)!

1. Bobby Budnick

Classification: Gingeris salute your shortius

Curly/Straight Locks: Straight, in form of 90s mullet

Freckles: Yes

Pale: Yes

Evil: More or less

His/Her Whole Deal: Chief bully of Camp Anawanna. Though mostly harmless, doles out "Awful Waffles" to the frailer campers and has been known to hoist the underpants of camp n00bs up the flagpole. His BFF/minion is named Donkeylips.

Ginger Stereotypes He/She Reinforces: Gingers are bullies.

Ginger Stereotypes He/She Breaks: Gingers are undesirable. Was able to woo Dina Alexander, the most popular girl in camp.

2. Ferguson Darling

Classification: Gingeris clarissa explains it allius

Curly/Straight Locks: Straight, in form of clean-cut, pre-teen Republican

Freckles: Yes

Pale: Quite

Evil: Fairly

His/Her Whole Deal: Obnoxious younger sibling of fourth-wall-breaking fashion prodigy, Clarissa Darling. Subscribes to the Alex P. Keaton school of "my parents were hippies, so, in defiance of their liberal ideals, I shall become a shallow, preppy, power-hungry, adolescent capitalist."

Ginger Stereotype He/She Reinforces: Gingers are wicked.

Ginger Stereotype He/She Breaks: Gingers are more libidinous than the rest of us. No libido to speak of.

3. Chuckie Finster

Classification: Gingeris rugrata

Curly/Straight Locks: Both, in form of Yahoo Serious

Freckles: Yes

Pale: It's all relative

Evil: Not at all

His/Her Whole Deal: Timid, nearsighted pal of Tommy Pickles (who was basically the Bear Grylls of babies). Raised by equally timid single father Chaz (also ginger), Chuckie is especially afraid of clowns and "the guy on the oatmeal box."

Ginger Stereotype He/She Reinforces: Gingers are nerdy, weak, and nasally.

Ginger Stereotype He/She Breaks: Gingers have tempers as fiery as their hair. Chuckie is rather sweet.

4. Judy Funnie

Classification: Gingeris douglus

Curly/Straight Locks: Straight, in form of proto-hipster

Freckles: No

Pale: No

Evil: More pretentious than evil

His/Her Whole Deal: Beret-loving older sister of Doug Funnie. Goes to art school. Wears sunglasses indoors. Is this because she's a stoner or because she's trying to hide her lack of eyeballs? The world may never know.

Ginger Stereotype He/She Reinforces: Ginger females are sexy.

Ginger Stereotype He/She Breaks: Gingers are pale. (Of course, there's no way of knowing, since so much about Judy is shrouded in mystery, but I have a feeling that when it comes to her hair, the carpet doesn't match the Venetian blinds, if you catch my drift.)

5. Eugene Horowitz

Classification: Gingeris hey arnoldae

Curly/Straight Locks: Curly, in form of Jewish Afro

Freckles: Yes. In fact, has freckles on the back of his head.

Pale: Not really.

Evil: Except for the day that he "went bad," he is exceptionally good.

His/Her Whole Deal: Arnold's nerdy buddy. Aside from just generally being unlucky, Eugene also had the misfortune to be born with the most obscenely phallic head ever.

Ginger Stereotype He/She Reinforces: Gingers wear socks with flip-flops.

Ginger Stereotype He/She Breaks: Gingers don't have phallic heads.

6. Roger Klotz

Classification: Gingeris douglus

Curly/Straight Locks: Curly, in form of bacon

Freckles: Since I don't believe that anyone would shave their hair in such a ridiculous fashion, I'm assuming that those dots above his ears are sideburn freckles.

Pale: Yellow

Evil: Yes

His/Her Whole Deal: Bluffington's resident juvenile delinquent, Roger torments Doug Funnie and his crew. Has a crush on fellow ginger, Judy Funnie. Also, has flat butt and weird shoes.

Ginger Stereotype He/She Reinforces: Gingers are bullies.

Ginger Stereotype He/She Breaks: Gingers are insecure about their hair. With those shoes, Roger is obviously more insecure about his height.

7. Robyn Russo

Classification: Gingeris alex mackias

Curly/Straight Locks: Straight, in form of quintessential 90s girl

Freckles: Yup

Pale: Yep

Evil: Nope

His/Her Whole Deal: Alex Mack's sarcastic friend. Insecure despite being a paragon of 90s beauty--perfect, over-tweezed eyebrows, dark lip liner, choker, etc.

Ginger Stereotypes He/She Reinforces: Gingers are outcasts. Somehow even more awkward than gangly Alex Mack.

Ginger Stereotype He/She Breaks: Gingers are soulless. May actually have too much soul, which might explain why she's so down on herself.

8. Big Pete Wrigley

Classification: Gingeris adventurus peteris

Curly/Straight Locks: Straight, in form of wholesome suburban boy

Freckles: Indeed

Pale: Yeah

Evil: No

His/Her Whole Deal: Perceptive junior high school student who shares his name with his younger brother. In spite of his mellow demeanor, has a remarkable number of enemies, including "Endless" Mike Hellstrom, Hat Head, and Open-Face. Plays the trombone in the marching band. Prone to narration.

Ginger Stereotypes He/She Reinforces: Gingers are eerily omniscient with the ability to describe everything that happens to everyone around town.

Ginger Stereotypes He/She Breaks: Gingers aren't cute. He's adorable. Just ask Ellen Hickle.

9. Little Pete Wrigley

Classification: Gingeris adventurus peteris

Curly/Straight Locks: Straight, in form of little creep

Freckles: So many that face is practically one giant freckle.

Pale: Perhaps under the freckles.

Evil: Has his moments

His/Her Whole Deal: Grimy younger brother of Big Pete Wrigley. Has his own personal superhero. Also probably has his own personal hair lice. While his older brother is grounded and rational, little Pete is mentally unbalanced. Sticks cereal up his nose.

Ginger Stereotypes He/She Reinforces: Gingers are mischievous/have things in common with Satan.

Ginger Stereotypes He/She Breaks: N/A. Little Pete is part of the reason why gingers have such a bad rep.

Comic-Con 2011: Saw some stars. Got some migraines. Gained 7 lbs in 4 days.

2011-08-02T17:56:00.000-07:00

For anyone contemplating going to Comic-Con next year, my advice to you would be don't. Overall, I had a decent time in San Diego--saw actors from some of my favorite shows, got tons of free junk, purchased a few irreverent t-shirts, consumed a lot of thoroughly badass Mexican food--but a good portion of the fun was eclipsed by the massive crowds.

Fact: "Comic-Con" is Latin for "there's hella people up in here, yo."

Although originally conceived as a celebration of comic books--hence the "comic" in "comic-con"--the convention's biggest draw nowadays is that "celebs" come to promote their shows, movies, latest bowel movements, etc. Yes, I do read comics--in fact, as I write this, there are copies of The Walking Dead and Batman on one side of me and a Green Lantern backpack on the other--but I don't lie and I don't hate: I love celebs and TV and movies. I'm completely entranced by it all. (As someone who's reading this blog, I'm assuming that you have a little of that going on as well.) But the very thing that I love about the convention is threatening to destroy it. Well, maybe not destroy it, but at the very least suck all of the lighthearted, nerdy good times out of it.

As the convention has received more and more coverage in the media, more and more people are showing up every year. There's also a huge influx of "norms" (as opposed to geeks). The night before the first official day of the convention, people were already lined up to see the next morning's panels.

I'm a sci-fi nerd, I lined up to see The Phantom Menace way back when, but there's no way that I'm going to camp out on some dirty, sticky sidewalk in San Diego (especially when I've paid hundreds of dollars for a hotel room) just to see the cast of Psych. That's ridiculous, right? Who loves Psych that much? It's almost enough to make me start watching Psych, because clearly it's the most amazing show in the history of TV.

Fact: At Comic-Con you stand in line to stand in line.

The absolute worst line was for The Big Bang Theory panel. With at least 1,500 people in line before me, I was able to get into Ballroom 20--which holds about 2,500 people--and saw Mayim Bialik and Johnny Galecki (2 of my fave former 90s teenagers) along with the the rest of the cast.

There were 7,000 unfortunate souls who stood in line for hours and didn't get in.

I took the above picture of the massive line for that day's panels. It went out of the convention center and across the harbor. And here's a picture of the convention center to really drive home the point.

The doors didn't open until 9:30 or 10:00am but I got there every morning at about 6:00, which was early enough to get into every panel that I'd planned to see. But even when you are fortunate enough to get into Ballroom 20, you have to contend with body overflow aka the large gentleman beside you, essentially, sharing your chair.

Sure, it could have been worse, but sitting scrunched up next to some stranger for, like 4 continuous hours is not awesome.

All griping aside, on Thursday I saw my love Bruce Campbell who was hysterical and condescending in a very charming way. Though his entire ensemble was quite stunning, I was most impressed by his pocket square. Rather than listening to what he was talking about (Burn Notice?), I spent the time wondering if he'd folded it himself.

Later that day was Game of Thrones--a show that has really become my obsession over the past couple of months, and to which I give my highest, most enthusiastic recommendation. Not only was I able to see one of the raddest Peters ever (Dinklage), but the moon of my life, Khal Drogo was there.

Jason Momoa is clearly psycho--as you can see he was wearing his Khal Drogo eye makeup--but psycho in the most endearing way possible. I didn't think it was possible for me to love this man any more than I already did but alas, it looks as though I'm going to have to see his (potentially god awful) Conan movie this summer. Also, Emilia Clarke is basically my idol.

So, if you leave Ballroom 20, there's absolutely no getting back in--unless you've gotten a bathroom pass from a security guard at the door and even then you have to be back in, like, 45 minutes. As a result, you have to sit through a lot of panels that you don't really care about just to see one that you do care about. Because Game of Thrones was near the end of the day, I was forced to sit through Covert Affairs...

which, as it turns out, wasn't so bad because Christopher Gorham (probably my biggest crush of 1999) was there...

...the illustrious Psych

...which I still don't get...and Ringer

...which, from the clips they showed, looks like it's probably going to get canceled in its first season. Nevertheless, it was cool to be in the presence of the slayer.

Friday, Saturday, and Sunday I went to panels for:

Torchwood

...where my love for John Barrowman, Eve Myles, and the studly Bill Pullman grew exponentially. Eve Myles is hilarious and you could tell that she and John are really close.

Eureka

Fringe

Every year I go to this panel hoping that Joshua Jackson will lead us all in one giant Mighty Ducks quack, but it never happens. Lame.

True Blood

American Dad

Seth MacFarlane and the rest of the cast were there, but I was really just jazzed to see the guy who does the voice of Reginald. If my mom ever does buy me the koala that I've been asking for, I pray that the CIA will have replaced it's brain with that of a homeless man.

Some TV Guide thingy

Matt Smith is so cool, no? He's my favorite Doctor, for sure.

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

I'd barely even heard of this show last year, but now I own every season on DVD and have watched each one of those DVDS 4 or 5 times. I'm pretty sure Danny DeVito was stoned or drunk or something.

Yo Gabba Gabba

Sadly, DJ Lance didn't do the DJ Lance Dance--which I live for.

Allen Gregory

This is Jonah Hill's new animated show. French Stewart is in it, which was already enough to entice me, but then they screened scenes from the pilot episode, and it looks like it's going to be super funny. Also Jonah Hill is so svelte now, don't you think?

On the comic book tip, I saw Stan Lee and Jim Lee.

Despite the last name and overall resemblance, they aren't related. I don't think. Jim Lee is one of my favorite artists and Stan Lee is so fuggin old but seems super sweet and grandpa-y.

On the stalker tip, I took these iPhone paparazzi pics of Fred Savage:

I saw him when I was walking back to my hotel. He was practically begging to be stalked.

And here are some miscellaneous photos:

I saw Paul Scheer from Human Giant, Best Week Ever, NTSF:SD:SUV, etc. walking around and he was really nice about taking this picture with me. He said my camera was cool. Admittedly, it is rather cool.

Standing awkwardly in front of the TARDIS.

Taken at the CBS booth in front of a green screen. Upon close inspection you will notice that I am groping Jim Parsons.

Outside the convention center, there was this art gallery, I guess sponsored by TBS, devoted to Conan O'Brien art.

The one good thing about standing in super long, 10,000-deep lines is that sometimes people will let you try on their authentic Captain Jack Harkness coats. And your hair will look really weird.

Amber + Prince Adam = Best Friends 4 Eva

Back to the Future memorabilia. Yes, that is a Flux Capacitor on the left.

A Mexican Pizza that I had at this restaurant in Old Town called Cafe Coyote. So good, man. If you're ever in San Diego, you need to go there.

So that's it in a nutshell. Even though I told you not to go to Comic-Con at the beginning of this post, on Saturday morning of the convention, I got in line at 4:00am to pre-register for next year--probably a sign that I'm some sort of masochist.

Amber's Getting Ready for Comic-con. Meanwhile, Superheroes Are Doing Things.

2011-07-18T16:57:00.000-07:00

San Diego Comic-con starts this Wednesday and I'm pretty jazzed about it. Last year, I met Joss Whedon!!!!!!!!! Though I doubt anything as cool as that will happen, this time I'll be wearing some fresh Joker sneakers, so I'll at least be infinitely cooler than I was last year.

While preparing for the Con, I've been fixating on the banalities of the superhero experience--the things they do when they aren't out superhero-ing:

Wolverine renting a DVD from the redbox kiosk

The Flash adjusting his watch for daylight savings time

Kitty Pryde drinking an icee

Rogue texting someone on her iPhone, probs Gambit

Batman tracking a package he ordered from Amazon.com

Professor X knitting a scarf that he's going to sell on Etsy

Robin chewing gum while walking

Supergirl feeling bloated

And finally, Thor--god of thunder--and Storm--controller of weather--smooching.

Gigantic Comic-Con post coming soon...

Stuff I didn't do as a kid but have decided to do as a cynical, perpetual migraine-having adult: #1 Watch "The Dark Crystal"

2011-07-06T15:04:00.000-07:00

There are a ton of adjectives that I could probably use to describe the experience of watching The Dark Crystal for the first time--harrowing, perplexing, disconcerting, just to name a few. But weird, is the word that I'm really cleaving to as it perfectly encapsulates my little journey into the more psychotic regions of Jim Henson's mind. Allow the following GIF to illustrate.

David Lynch would find this movie odd.

I was thinking of writing out a brief little recapitulation of the plot for anyone who hasn't seen the movie or maybe hasn't watched it since they were a kid whose parents' preferred mode of child abuse was allowing them to view macabre films with creepy, vacant-eyed puppets on the reg. Unfortunately, I still don't know what the hell this movie is about.

But here's what I can tell you:

1. It opens with a naked puppet playing the flute.

Quite possibly the most ambitious beginning in film history.

2. This bird thingy has boobs.

There's something very sexual assualty about this scene, no?

3. Aw, hell nah!

Not cute.

4. I think these two did it.

And by it I mean the intercourse.

5. At the end of the movie Jen, the naked flautist, straddles the titular dark crystal and inserts his "crystal shard" into it.

This, of course, is a metaphor for inserting crystal shards into dark crystals. Kinky.

Final Analysis: I find it hard to believe that The Dark Crystal was intended for children since it is by far the most terrifying movie that I have ever seen--somehow, more terrifying than Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. The movie/experience of watching the movie wasn't horrible--since I do have a deep appreciation for weird, confusing crap, there was something mildly enjoyable about it--but when it comes to Jim Henson's oeuvre, I'll always favor The Muppet Babies. Not even David Bowie's Labyrinth-crotch could shake my devotion to tiny Gonzo.

Experience Rating: 3 out of 5 bottles of Flintstones Chewable Vitamins.

Happy Fourth O' July, 'Mericans!

2011-07-04T20:34:00.000-07:00

Drew this picture for youse guys.

Real post coming soon.

It's Been A Long Time, I Shouldn't Have Left You Without A Dope Beat To Step To, Wicky-Wicky/ Arts & Crap: Thor

2011-06-03T11:22:00.000-07:00

First, I want to thank anyone who’s still visiting this blog. I realize that I haven’t been around for a while, but starting now, that’s going to change. I’ll be devoting huge quantities of time to the Internet. I’m going to be like Sandra Bullock in that movie The Net, where she was always on the Internet or whatever.

Speaking of movies, while I was away, I saw that most life-altering, mind-blowing, heartrending, film ever to be projected onto the silver screen: Kenneth Branagh’s Thor. The title may actually just be “Thor,” but for some baffling/genius reason it was directed by Kenneth Branagh; and so, it only makes sense to refer to the movie as Kenneth Branagh’s Thor, or, alternatively, Thor: A Kenneth Branagh Joint.

If you haven’t seen the movie yet, I strongly suggest that you reevaluate the direction your life is headed, and if you saw it, but didn’t enjoy it, then you should begin questioning your sanity because you are insane.
I’m convinced that Chris Hemsworth isn’t even a real person, but some computer generated man. His body is bonkers. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Kenneth Branagh reveals on the DVD commentary that Chris Hemsworth is actually Thor, Norse god of thunder and sick abs.

Anyway, as a result of seeing the movie, I’m now obsessed with Thor. I bought a book on Norse mythology, ordered a Thor comic from Amazon, and have been naming all of my Sims after Norse gods.

Also, for the first time, I understand why Sara from Adventures in Babysitting, wore that Thor helmet all the time. Like, I can totally relate.

...And I’m pretty sure that she gets so upset with Brad for calling Thor a “homo,” not because there’s anything wrong with being gay, but because she’s an incredibly progressive 1980s-8-year-old and feels that her brother is being insensitive, offensive, and decidedly un-PG-13.

Because--like my idol, Sara--I believe that no outfit is complete without a silver-winged helmet, but am, unfortunately, too poor to buy one from Target, I decided to make my own. You can make one too.

What You'll Need:

Cardboard
Aluminum Foil
Duct Tape
Scissors
Pencil
A head that isn't super big
Low expectations

Instructions:

1. Draw a wing on your cardboard, cut it out, trace that first wing onto another piece of cardboard, then cut out the second wing. Incidentally, if you accidentally bought a pack of Kotex without wings, you can tape these cardboard wings onto either side of your pad for maximum coverage.

2. Wrap those wings in aluminum foil, yo.

3. Cut some strips from your scrap cardboard, tape the strips together so that they form a circle/crown that fits around your noggin.

4. Tape the wings onto the sides of your cardboard headband.

5. Wrap all exposed cardboard in aluminum foil. Put it on your head. Look hella fresh.

6. Drop your car off at an auto body shop and pay for everything with your "helmet."

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A short list of princes who may be better matches for Kate Middleton

2011-04-28T20:35:00.000-07:00

I might've been more invested in the Royal Wedding if Prince William weren't such a goober. He just looks super dull and dorky. Prince Harry is the only member of the Windsor family whose nuptials I'd be even remotely interested in watching--what with his devil-may-care attitude and ginger balls. Anyway, I feel that Kate Middleton is on the verge of making a tremendous mistake. Fortunately, the wedding hasn't happened yet, so it's not too late for her to back out of this whole thing and run off with someone who has a little more joie de vivre.

I'm assuming, at this point, she has her heart set on marrying a prince. So, I've compiled a list of 10 other princely fellows for Kate's consideration--noting the pros and cons of each and rating them on the Disney Prince Scale (naturally).

Even the lamest of the princes listed below is infinitely fresher than William.

Prince Albert

Background Info: Born in 1840; studied law and philosophy at the University of Bonn; was instrumental in the organization of the Great Exhibition of 1851 (which I wrote a report on in the 9th grade); aided in the development of Britain's constitutional monarchy. Oh, and the tip of his dong was pierced.

Pros

His dong piercing

Cons

His dong piercing
The fact that he's dead
But even before he died, he was married to his first cousin, which isn't incredibly sexy.

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air

Background Info: In West Philadelphia, born and raised, on the playground is where he spent most of his days. Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool, and all shooting some b-ball outside of school. When a couple of guys, who were up to no good, starting making trouble in his neighborhood. He got in one little fight and his mom got scared and said, "You're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air." He whistled for a cab and when it came near, the license plate said "fresh" and it had dice in the mirror. If anything, he could say that this cab was rare, but he thought, nah, forget, "Yo, homes, to Bel-Air." He pulled up to the house about seven or eight, and he yelled to the cabby, "Yo, homes, smell you later!" Looked at his kingdom, he was finally there, to sit on his thrown as the prince of Bel-Air.

Pros

Will make sure haters mind their business, that's all, just mind their business
Get all the privileges of being a member of the upper-class without having to be a slave to decorum--the two of you will "keep it real" by doing things like wearing your blazers inside out and using slang

Cons

DJ Jazzy Jeff

(obviously)

The Prince of Persia

Background Info: Some kind of prince of Persia, I don't know; has a British accent for no reason at all.

Pros

Nice abs
Muscular boobs
Has a couple of really sick swords

Cons

If it's windy, his "sands of time" will fly into your eyes
Can run up walls, which seems like a "pro" but it's actually a totally useless talent and therefore a "con". It's like, "whoa, you just ran up a wall, but do you have health insurance and will I be covered under your plan? How high are the co-pays?"

Prince

Background Info: Tiny man from Minneapolis; once changed his name to an unpronounceable symbol; parties like it's 1999; may or may not have had intercourse with a little red corvette.

Pros

He wants to be your lover. He wants to be the only one who makes you come running. He wants to turn you on, turn you out, all night long, make you shout.

Cons

He wants to be your brother. And if that weren't bad enough, he also wants to be your mother and your sister too.

The Half-Blood Prince

Background Info: Sort of goth; awesome at potions.

Pros

Knows magic
Huge dong (probably)
Looks like Alan Rickman
Has Sexy Alan Rickman voice

Cons

Muggle father
Have to live on a teacher's salary
Will probably kill any hoary old bearded mentors that you have
Shops at Hot Topic

The Prince of Darkness

Background Info: Embodiment of evil.

Pros

Good dancer
Cute
According to Shakespeare's King Lear, "the prince of darkness is a gentleman."
Will probably improve your guitar playing

Cons

Martin Prince

Background Info: Nerdburger; suck-up; target of Nelson Mandela Muntz's ire.

Pros

High IQ
Impressive two-strand cowlick
Looks good in mary janes

Cons

Only has 8 fingers
He's in the fourth grade, so he hasn't even taken calculus yet

Prince Adam of Eternia

Background Info: Prince of Eternia and defender of the secrets of Castle Grayskull. Fabulous secret powers were revealed to him the day he held aloft his magic sword and said, "by the power of Grayskull, I HAVE THE POWERRRRRRR!"

Pros

Most powerful man in the universe
Get to have She-ra as a sister-in-law

Cons

None

The Prince of the Prince and the Pauper

Background Info: Looks like a poor guy but isn't.

Pros

Isn't pretentious or arrogant--willing to switch clothes with a hobo

Cons

Why does he look like this Pauper fellow? If I learned anything from Sister, Sister, it's that identical strangers are twins separated at birth. This is probably just the tip of the iceberg as far as his weird family secrets go.

Prince Tennis Balls

Background Info: 6.7cm in diameter; covered in fluorescent yellow felt.

Pros

Aerodynamic
Bouncy
Your kids will be part vulcanized rubber, which should qualify them for certain college scholarships

Cons

Poor conversationalist
Have to deal with the hateful glares of the close-minded
May begin to lose bounciness after being removed from pressurized can

Why I Refuse to See Scream 4 or The Grumblings of a Crotchety Almost-30-Year-Old

2011-04-13T17:29:00.000-07:00

Fully engrossed in my addictions to napping and spraying my hair with Sun-In, I didn't learn that this thing called "Scream 4" existed until last weekend.

If only Wes Craven and Kevin Williamson had consulted me on this project before it went into production, I could've warned them that they were creating a movie that I have absolutely no intention of seeing. Why do I refuse to see Scream 4? The reasons are fairly obvious.

I Prefer the Home Alone Culkins.

You can just look at Rory Culkin (who plays some kind of guy with luscious brown hair in Scream 4) and tell that he has no idea what it's like to be in Home Alone. His brothers, Macaulay and Kieran, carry those Home Alone battle scars with them--look into their eyes and you'll notice their hardened, world-weary "I was once in Home Alone and then later in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York" stares. Although Rory is arguably the most attractive of the clan, and I definitely want to spend hours braiding and re-braiding his hair, to be a Culkin and to not have been in Home Alone--or worse, to have only been a year old when the movie was released--is kind of lame.

This low-rent, bastardized version of the Randy character from Screams 1-3 who looks like an actual teenager and not a 30-year-old man portraying a teenager.

So I realize that, when it comes to the super meta Scream franchise, we need a character to harp on "the rules" of the horror genre throughout the movie because we're all morons with no understanding of tropes or the ability to comprehend what we see without someone interpreting it for us. But I don't understand why Randy/Jamie Kennedy isn't that person in this new movie. Now, I know what you're thinking. He died in Scream 2. But when has someone dying ever stopped them from being alive? Plus--and I know I might lose a little credibility by saying this--I really like Jamie Kennedy. Don't be hatin'.

The Real-Life Dissolution of the Courteney Cox-David Arquette Relationship.

Do you remember the first episode of Friends to air after Courteney Cox and David Arquette were married? Courteney Cox had just changed her name to Courteney Cox-Arquette and during the opening credits, every other cast member's last name was hyphenated with "Arquette." I thought that was pretty cute. Alas, the greatest love story of our generation, nay, of all time, has ended and I can't bear to see the two of them on screen together.

In the future, this movie will be an historically inaccurate representation of our era and, as someone with a B.A. in history, I can't stand for that.

A landline? Really? Next you'll be telling me she still sends letters via the US Postal Service instead of sending emails. Or that she sleeps on a bed and not inside of a hyperbaric chamber. Also, I understand that we aren't supposed to try and make sense of anything we see in a horror movie, but it's a well known fact that anyone who calls you on your landline is either (a)going to kill you or (b) a bill collector. This is why YOU NEVER ANSWER YOUR HOUSE PHONE! Add that to your list of rules, weird-kid-who-ISN'T-Jamie Kennedy.

I'm Over This Person

Adam, The O.C. was great (during the first two seasons). We all had our fun, made some memories, etc. But I don't know that this acting thing is for you. You're attractive enough and seem intelligent, and I feel that you're perfectly suited for a career as cute-guy-who-works-in-that-one-store. Or even cute-guy-who-I-see-on-the-bus-from-time-to-time. So, why don't you step aside and leave the acting to Anthony Anderson.

I'm Pretty Sure that Hayden Panettiere's Character is Going to Die and that She Isn't "the Killer."

I don't like being able to predict anything. I want to be genuinely surprised when I see a horror movie and I don't think that there are any surprises left in this franchise. For once, I'd like there to be a Scream sequel where everyone's the killer and no one dies. Or where no one's the killer but everyone dies. Aw snap, I'm giving myself chills just thinking about that.

Lastly, I Just Literally Can't See the Movie.

I'm broke. All I have is $5 and a coupon for a free McDonald's oatmeal.

Sam Explains It All: Unsung Fashion Highlights from a Beloved Nickelodeon Show

2011-03-28T21:33:00.000-07:00

I still remember the chilly, second-grade morn when I fearlessly wore my first Clarissa Darling inspired outfit--a pair of pink tights under some cut-offs that (much to my mother's dismay) I'd made the night before. Sadly, Clarissa's brazen style--her vests, headbands, green Dr. Martens, floral leggings, lobster earrings, etc.--were so over the top, that the sartorial genius of Sam (Clarissa's platonic bestie) was almost entirely overlooked...

until now.

1. Neon Father-Son Bonding Surfer Ensemble

On a whim, Sam's single father decides to take him surfing. Being the well-adjusted child of divorce that he is, Sam not only indulges his dad, he dresses the part--adopting the style of a 1990s-beach bum-fanny pack-enthusiast.

Note the shock of gelled-up hair protruding from his neon green backwards baseball cap. This is no accident, my friends. Sam always knew how to maximize his sexy. While most people would have paired those pink shorts with a solid colored top, Sam subverts expectations and flouts social mores by wearing a tie-dyed shirt.

2. 90s Pirate Ensemble

Ah, the 90s! A time when you could go to your local, suburban department store and find a pair of striped harem pants. Can't you just see Johnny Depp, circa now, wearing something like this while chilling with the fam in the South of France? And then John Mayer wearing it in an embarrassing attempt to look like Johnny Depp? This outfit shouldn't work but for some reason it does. As a hardcore bandanna proponent, I applaud Sam's choice of cranial accessory.

3. Carrot Frenzy Shirt

I think Sam wore this shirt, which reads, "Carrot Frenzy," in deference to red-haired Ferguson. Honestly, I don't know what a Carrot Frenzy is (a drug-fueled veggie binge? a song by The Presidents of the United States of America?) but there's something kind of esoteric about the shirt, and I'm into that. I don't know that I'd be able to pull off something like this with as much panache.

4. Futuristic Coach Potato Shirt Ensemble

How is this futuristic, you ask. Well, this episode of Clarissa Explains It All probably aired around 1992...HOWEVER...the baggy shorts-calf-high socks combo is an authentic 1997 look (See Blink 182).

The "Couch Potato Shirt" is also somewhat futuristic in that it foreshadows our current century's obsession with ironic graphic tees. Sam was so incredibly fashion forward, right? I look at these pictures and wonder how Clarissa was able to resist him. I mean, he's sitting right there, on her bed, wearing the couch potato shirt, and she was somehow able to not make out with him.

5. The My-My-My Music Hits Me So Hard Makes Me Say Oh My Lord Thank You For Blessing Me With A Mind To Rhyme And Two Hype Feet Ensemble

Words fail me. But I guess if I had to say something it'd be...move, slide your rump, just for a minute let's all do the bump, bump, bump, bump...yeeaaaaaaaaaah.

6. The Amber Ensemble

This outfit might not be noteworthy if it weren't for the fact that I was dressed exactly like this a couple of days ago--Batman shirt, cuffed blue jeans, friendship bracelet, etc. And yes, at the time, I was climbing up a ladder on my way into my neighbor's bedroom. Yes, a little guitar riff could be heard as I hopped through the window. No, I'm not BFFs with my neighbor, nor do I technically know her. But I strive to live life as Sam would, and I'm not going to let a little thing like "breaking and entering" stand in the way of that.

7. Proto-Hipster Geek Ensemble

Nowadays, it isn't uncommon to wear your geekdom on your sleeve. But this wasn't always the case. In my humble, Trek-loving opinion this is the coolest thing that Sam, or anyone on the show, ever wore.

...although, I'd kill for this watch...

...and those brontosaurus earrings aren't too shabby either.

Classics Illustrated: Red Dawn (1984)

2011-03-19T08:58:00.000-07:00

Red Dawn.

What the hell?

Have you guys seen this movie?

Well, I watched it for the first time last week and to say that my mind was blown doesn't even cover it. Red Dawn is bonkers. For real. In fact, it had such a tremendous impact on me that I was compelled to create these illustrations--a little project that I like to call...Red Drawn.

OK, so, for those who haven't seen it, Patrick Swayze and the venerable Charlie Sheen are brothers.

C. Thomas Howell--who's wearing the raddest Star Wars hat for the first couple of minutes of the movie--Lea Thompson, and Jennifer Grey round out the cast.

They're teenagers living in rural-blue jeans-work boots-gun hoarding-1980s-Colorado, defending American soil from commie invaders without the help of any adults. It's essentially Home Alone with only a few, very minor differences.

The movie begins with a ton of kooky, socialist paratroopers landing right outside of the local high school, which--as any imperialist warlord will tell you--is the most logical place to begin an invasion.

The history teacher--the only black guy in the entire town, possibly the state--leaves the relative safety of the school building, nonchalantly walks up to one of these invaders (who's holding a huge gun, mind you), and asks what's going on. Naturally, he's killed.

Commies apparently have an infinite supply of ammunition, 'cause this poor guy is shot, like, 20 times in the chest at point-blank range, and then they just start firing indiscriminately. One dude blows up an empty, parked, school bus with a rocket launcher while Swayze, Sheen, and their buds flee the scene.

The gang get, like, 50 or 60 guns, head up to the mountains, and try to figure out how to proceed. Within minutes of being up there, they're super hungry. I mean, who wouldn't be, right? Like marijuana, full-out, Communist invasions, are notorious for their ability to give you the munchies. So, Swayze and Sheen take C. Thomas Howell hunting. After killing a deer, C. Thomas is peer-pressured into drinking the dead animal's blood--the brothers tell him that it's "the spirit" of the deer and that it'll make him a man or whatever.

At which point, I start thinking that the whole invasion was just part of an elaborate plan to get him to drink a cup of blood. After munching on deer spirits, the guys go back into town to see if the Communists have left yet and find that their parents and the townspeople who haven't been rocket launchered to death, are being held in a reeducation/POW camp. Patrick Swayze and Charlie Sheen talk to their dad, who seems like a chill guy at first, but then he starts screaming "Avenge me, avenge me!"

Apparently the entire invasion, which they're calling "World War III," was a personal attack on him. Patrick Swayze gets all emotional, thinking about his father, how red the dawn is, etc., and starts crying.

They go back to the mountains, but not before picking up Jennifer Grey and Lea Thompson, who've been living under the floorboards of their grandparents' house. Whether or not they were living under the house before the war started, I don't know.

The kids make that all-too-common transition from happy-go-lucky teenagers to commie killing guerrillas and start calling themselves the "Wolverines"--ostensibly because their school mascot was the "wolverine" but really I think the name was more about how badass they all thought Wolverine's adamantium claws and huge adamantium crotch bulge were.

They kill approximately one jillion kabillion commies, and things are pretty sweet considering the circumstances. Eventually, they come across an American pilot who wants to help them. He tells them about the escalating war--a conversation that leads to a very poignant bit of dialogue.

For some reason it's winter now and the Wolverines are betrayed by one of their own. Patrick Swayze has no choice but to kill the dude...

...which makes him sad. He cries again.

Now...eh...I don't know what happens next because I went downstairs to eat a delicious steak.

By the time I came back, things were really starting to go downhill for the Wolverines. Jennifer Grey is wounded and begs Patrick Swayze to shoot her so the enemy won't find her and force her to talk or something. I don't know. Anyway, he can't bring himself to shoot her, so she has to take matters into her own hands.

Patrick Swayze and Charlie Sheen go into town where they're both shot. Swayze uses what little strength he has to carry his bro to a playground.

The ending isn't a total bummer, though. Lea Thompson delivers this doleful voice over where she assures the audience that America eventually won WWIII.

THE END

...Or is it?

The Red Dawn remake is being released this year and Connor Cruise--Tom's son--is going to be in it. So, we all have that to look forward to...

If there's a classic movie that you'd like to see illustrated, just leave me a comment or send an email and I'll make your dreams come true.

In Which We Deal With Our Zits

2011-03-01T20:57:00.000-08:00

Remember the time Doug Funnie got that huge zit, right before Beebe Bluff's big party?

Or the time that Angela Chase got a zit that was actually a metaphor for 90s teen insecurity and angst and flannel shirts and overalls or something?

Or when Zack and Screech started peddling that zit cream that had the unfortunate side effect of turning skin maroon, then Kelly Kapowski unwittingly rubbed the stuff all over her face--even though she only had one tiny, imperceptible blemish on the tip of her nose--so her entire face turned maroon, which maybe wouldn't have been such a horrible thing for her if she weren't (a) totally narcissistic and (b) in the running for homecoming queen; but because she was so transcendently gorgeous and popular, and also because maroon just happened to be one of Bayside High's school colors, she won anyway?

Or what about the time that Amber got that monster zit on her cheek and a week later it was still there, claiming squatter's rights?

Since I went through a bizarre second-puberty about a year and a half ago, where my face would breakout frequently and thoroughly (not one of those Proactiv-celebrity testimonial-non-breakout-breakouts, but legit breakouts), I'm not really sweating one pimple. But I think people, self included, just naturally tend toward Angela Chase-esque globalization when it comes to skin issues. All pimples suck, but what I've learned over the years, is that some pimples are worse than others.

(5) Chin Zit (aka "the meh..."): You might think it's devastating, but if you have a pimple on your chin, I'm probably not going to even notice it. So, don't fret. I used to get these giant, planet-sized bumps on my chin, and never once did that deter a homeless guy from hitting on me.

(4) Middle of the Forehead Zit (aka "the Bull's Eye," aka "the Bindi," aka "the Third Eye," aka "the Fifth Eye if You're Wearing Glasses"): The car wreck of zits, it's impossible for passersby to not look. This centrally located pimple is so hypnotic, captivating, and charismatic that it could start it's own cult and gain a large, devoted following. Fortunately, you can always cut some bangs to obscure your hypno-zit if you're too embarrassed/want to prevent the pimple from indoctrinating the impressionable masses. But beware, if you cut your own bangs ("fringe" if you're British), you will almost certainly look insane. So think it over and weigh your options.

(3) Cheek Zit (aka "the Chimple"): The cheeks, to me, are the cutest part of the head. If you're talking to me and you have chubby cheeks, then I'm not listening to anything you're saying, I'm just trying to figure out a way to casually bite your adorable face. This is why it's so tragic to get a zit here. But seriously, in my experience, these suck because they take forever to heal. I had a constellation of pimples on my left cheek last year and I can still sort of see the spots.

(2) Lip Zit (aka "the Herp"): One of the absolute worst places to get a pimple because (a) it looks like herpes simplex and (b) totally painful.

(1) Tip of the Nose Zit (aka "the Rudolph" aka "the why me?" aka "the seriously?" aka "whatever"): This zit is so inescapable, so impossible to hide, so in your face and on your face, so cliche, so the worst place to get a zit, that it's actually the best place to get a zit. You don't have to wonder if everyone you see is staring at your honkin' honker pimple because they TOTALLY ARE. So just get over it, man. Make a self-deprecating joke and laugh about it. Tell people it's your parasitic twin and get on with your life.

But if you are genuinely depressed about your complexion, and I've definitely been there, I hope that you can find some solace in the fact that one of the most awesome people to ever walk the earth--quite possibly the most awesome person to ever walk the earth--had some pretty serious acne as a youngster.

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Jerry O' Connell refuses to tell Harold about his delicious pepperoni zits:

The sequel:

Newsies is better than Citizen Kane--Put that in your pape and smoke it!UPDATE

2011-02-24T12:25:00.000-08:00

The #1 movie on the American Film Institute's "Top 100" list is Citizen Kane. And how did Disney's live-action musical Newsies rate? It isn't even on the list, my friends. Well, I'm calling shenanigans on AFI and all 1500 of the film artists, critics, and historians who compile their lists because not only is Newsies a far superior depiction of the late 19th century/early 20th century newspaper industry and "yellow journalism" or whatever, but it's also just unmistakably better than Citizen Kane* in almost every imaginable way. Citizen Kane, ha! More like Citizen Lame!

Citizen Kane is so old! Like, seriously. It isn't even in color. What the hell?

Newsies, on the other hand, was filmed in 1992 and is in color and therefore, automatically, less boring for me to watch.

In Citizen Kane, newspapers abound, but no one calls them "papes." Fact: calling newspapers "newspapers" or even "papers" is so dumb, calling newspapers "papes" is cool (and clearly more time efficient).

In Citizen Kane, artsy or "clever" camera shots and angles are used to mask a lack of singing and dancing, ergo, the movie is tedious to the point of being a piece of crap.

There isn't a single cast member from the 90s Nickelodeon variety show, Roundhouse, in Citizen Kane, whereas Newsies has four.

(Here's another picture for those of you who aren't Newsies scholars/as eagle-eyed as I am/enthusiastic about finding Roundhouse cast members in movies.)

Of course I understand that Roundhouse wasn't around in 1941, but that's no excuse, as far as I'm concerned.

Bill Pullman is sexier than Orson Welles.

Yes, Welles does have a certain Vincent D'Onofrio quality about him but he just doesn't do anything for me. Pullman, though...well, I guess I've always been into men who look like they could be a friend's dad.

Newsies helped me pass my AP U.S. History exam, while Citizen Kane has yet to prove its usefulness.

Not only did I pass, but I got a "4" (which is pretty good). Thanks to the statue that appears at the beginning of the movie, I was able to answer the Horace Greeley multiple-choice question correctly. Boo-yah!

Citizen Kane misrepresents the power, or lack thereof, of pape headlines.

And finally, Christian Bale is a better actor than Orson Welles. Yeah, I said it.

At the very least, Bale is more committed to his craft than Welles. Do you think that Christian Bale knew how to dance before he stepped onto the set of Newsies? No, he didn't. But he broke it down anyway.

In Citizen Kane, Orson Welles ages from the beginning of the movie to the end of it. This is accomplished through the use of makeup. But if Christian Bale were to play a character who started off as a young man and progressively got older over the course of the film, he would literally force his body to age 20 or 30 years.

In summation, Newsies is rad, Citizen Kane sucks, and any of AFI's esteemed film experts who also happen to be members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences can partially redeem themselves in my eyes by giving Christian Bale an Academy Award this Sunday.

*I haven't necessarily or even actually seen Citizen Kane.

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Justice

Suddenly/I'm respectable/staring right at 'cha/ lousy with stature...Victory!/ front page story/ guts and glory/ I'm the king of New York!

A Guide to 90s-Boy Hair in Five Parts

2011-02-19T07:56:00.000-08:00

After looking at all of those Devon Sawa photos the other day, I started to dream about him. Well, more specifically, I began dreaming about his hair. His 90s-boy center-part haunted and intrigued me, in equal measure. I needed to understand its hold over me, so I studied Devon's part and the parts of a few of his contemporaries.

Contrary to popular belief, the 90s white dude hair part wasn't actually an invention of the 90s. Many influential figures throughout time were ardent supporters of the style.

Of course, it was in the 1990s that the hairdo reached its pinnacle. If you had a crush on a Caucasian male actor who was between the ages of 12 and 17 in 1994, the guy's hair was definitely parted. (There's also a pretty good chance that your crush's name was Jonathan.)

Often, the hair on the top/front of the head was long, falling to about eye-level while the hair in back was shorter or shaved, basically creating two layers. But there was no standard when it came to length (except that it shouldn't end below the shoulders) or the severity of the part--as you'll notice in the above pictures. Matthew Lawrence, (star of Brotherly Love and utterer of "he's a she, she's a he, he's a she-she...he's half man, half woman"), for example, was a trailblazer and proved that there was room for interpretation and personal expression.

Matthew should be awarded a Nobel Prize--at the very least--for how gracefully he made the transition from 80s bowl-cut to 90s parted hair. The day he ran that comb down the center of his head was enlightening for him, I'm sure.

After a failed attempt to rejuvenate the show with the birth of a fourth Seaver child, in 1991, Growing Pains execs decided to add another new character--this time one with a center-part (in contrast to Ben's side-part).

Unlike Mike and Ben Seaver, Luke's hair was unequivocally 90s (and he didn't tuck his shirts into his jeans like a big, 1989, dork a-hole). Though I'm sure Leonardo DiCaprio delivered a fine audition, it was undoubtedly his coif that secured the gig. As magnificent as Leo's center-part was, the show sucked--having reached that lamentable bad-boy-character-becomes-teacher phase--and Growing Pains ended within a year of him joining the cast. I have a feeling, though, if he'd let his bangs/hair flaps fall over his eyes a little more, and made the part a tiny bit more pronounced, they could have strung things out for another two seasons.

It's simple. If you had the center-part, you were cool. Well, you know, cooler than anyone sitting next to you who didn't have the center-part. Case in point:

Case in point part deux:

Under normal circumstances, I'd say that Leo is just generally more awesome than Tobey Maguire. But in this instance, Tobey has 90s hair while Leo has this weird, buzzed flattop aka "the clock tower shooter" cut. Tobey wins.

There was the "Black Relaxed Hair" Variation (See Prince; Michael Jackson in the "You Are Not Alone" video), the "Boy Band" Variation (See Nick Carter), the "Creepy" Variation (See James Van Der Beek), but my personal favorite was the "Curly" Variation.

I admire Johnny Galecki's boldness. Most guys with curly hair would look at JTT or Devon Sawa or sit behind Jordan Catalano in class and think, "my hair's never going to be able to do that." But not Johnny. What's really awesome is that almost 20 years post-Roseanne, he's still sort of doing his hair like this.

In researching, I came across something wondrous and revealing:

The differences in length give the illusion that each of these guys has a different haircut, but no, they all have the 90s-boy center-part. If ever you doubted the importance of the hairstyle in the history of man, then you need only take a look at this glorious artifact.

Photo Credits: Brad Renfro, JTT, Will and Rider, Matthew Lawrence, Growing Pains, Tobey and Leo, Johnny Galecki.

90s TV Show Valentines for You and Yours

2011-02-12T11:08:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day Anecdote: When I was in 6th grade, one of my teachers had us make construction paper-crayon-safety scissor valentines. Everyone was supposed to make a valentine for one other person in the class. My friends paired up, but I guess there was an odd number of kids, because I didn't have a partner. No one seemed to notice or care. I spent the entire class period begrudgingly making a valentine, while hoping that all of my "friends" would drop dead and subsequently burn in the eternal fires of hell. I was also trying to stifle my tears, and was doing a good job of it, until everyone exchanged valentines. Naturally, I broke down. Everyone was standing in the hallway by this time, and a bunch of girls from my class came up to me, wanting to know what was wrong. I told them that no one made a valentine for me. After hearing this, some of them ran back into the classroom and jerry-rigged a crude valentine out of scraps of paper. In retrospect, I suppose this was sort of sweet. But, at the time, I thought it was total bullshit, and I threw that thing away. My teacher must have seen me crying because I ended up having to go to this group for emo, "at-risk" girls, led by the school counselor every week.

I've made these 90s TV show valentines for you to share with the people you care about, in the hopes that no one you love will have to go through what I went through all those years ago.

Roseanne

Full House

My So-Called Life

Friends

Dawson's Creek

The Nanny

Martin

Star Trek: The Next Generation

Clarissa Explains It All

Boy Meets World

A Love Letter to Young Hercules Regarding Our (Hopefully) Forthcoming Nuptials

2011-02-10T11:52:00.000-08:00

Dear Young Hercules,

I'm hot for your burgeoning, demigod bod.

I love that golden hair of yours, how it glistens with mythological hair gel.

I love the leather armband you always wear and the the way that it hugs your young bicep.

I love that you live in ancient Greece, yet somehow, know karate.

I love your X-Men belt buckle.

But most of all, I love that you will eventually grow to look like this:

and also, like this:

and maybe even a little like this:

You're half god, half mortal, and fully sexy. This is why I feel that we should wed.

Now, I know you're thinking, "Amber, you're totally cute and your knowledge of Star Trek: The Next Generation is second to none, but what do you really have to offer me, Young Hercules, son of Zeus?" Well, all I have to say is that I recently learned how to make a grilled cheese sandwich, and if that isn't enough to entice you, then I don't know what will.

Grilled cheese sandwiches aside, I think you should also know that we have a lot in common. Like, we were both raised by single mothers,

we both look really good in leather pants, and we're both awesome at deflecting lightening bolts with bits of broken furniture.

Young Hercules, my darling, I can see the two of us carving out an extremely rad life together. A life full of meaning, a life full love, a life full of chilling, eating grilled cheese sandwiches, and riding centaurs. And when you hunger for adventure, I'm totally down to go on quests, slay magical beasts, steal mystical chalices, etc.

In the end, we were meant for each other--I understand that and I hope that you understand it as well.

Only one question remains: Will you marry me? (Check yes or no.)

Yours eternally,

Amber

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Teen Heartthrob in Decline: Devon Sawa

2011-01-29T15:41:00.000-08:00

Devon Sawa. Canadian. Blond. Adequate actor. Blessed with the face of an angel...or so it seemed, many, many moons ago. I'm not saying that he lost his looks but he definitely misplaced them.

Role: Junior Floyd--quarterback for the ragtag, underdog Little Giants pee-wee football team and object of Becky "the Icebox" O'Shea's affection.

I'm America's leading Little Giants scholar. Unlike anyone else in the history of the world, I watched this movie 50 thousand times when I was 11. Seriously. I'd finish the video tape, rewind it, and watch it again. I wish I could attribute this behavior to insatiable Devon Sawa fanaticism because that would be normal and understandable and socially acceptable. But I really just wanted to marry Rick Moranis, who played the Little Giants' coach/all-around sexy man.

Even though Sawa wasn't my type--meaning he wasn't a diminutive, bespectacled man, older than my mother--I could understand the appeal. (1) He'd mastered the ubiquitous 90s-center-hair part (2) he had a big mouth--good for Frenching and (3) he had that whole fresh-scrubbed, all-American vibe going on--which is kind of amazing, considering he was Canadian. Basically, what I'm trying to say is, I wouldn't have tacked a photo of him up on my bedroom wall but I also wouldn't have written any strongly-worded letters to BOP or Tiger Beat demanding fewer Devon Sawa centerfolds.

Role: Non-dead incarnation of Casper "the friendly ghost" who shows up in the last couple of minutes of the movie to smooch Christina Ricci and blow everyone's mind with his ethereal, pre-teen hotness.

Casper secured Devon Sawa's place in the annals of heartthrob-dom. He was so transcendently cute that I probably wouldn't have even noticed Rick Moranis, had Rick Moranis been in this movie. Was Rick Moranis in this movie?

When you watch the five minutes in which Devon appears, you'll notice what seems to be bright, artificial lighting, illuminating him. What most people don't know is that this isn't artificial lighting at all! It is, in fact, Devon Sawa's natural glow, emanating from his body, enveloping him like the heavenly creature that he is.

With Casper, he'd officially achieved dreamboat status. And I officially need to stop talking about it because I'm officially creeping myself out.

Role: I don't even know. Never saw it. But I do recall thousands of photo spreads about the movie in the teeny bopper magazines that I was trying to ween myself off of. In the end, Wild America was just an excuse to put Jonathan Taylor Thomas and Devon Sawa in the same movie--the teeny bopper equivalent of the Robert DeNiro-Al Pacino pairing in Heat.

Although he'd made significant strides in his 90s-center-hair part, he'd begun to age--a definite teen heartthrob no-no.

Don't get me wrong, he was still cute and if he'd gone to my high school, I'm sure I would have had a low-key crush on him. But I don't know. Like, I could maybe see him on the top right corner of Big Bopper magazine at this point but his Tiger Beat cover days were behind him for sure.

Role: High school student who has a premonition about a plane explosion/the reason why I always check the latch on the tray table in front of me when flying.

Uh...

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, for realz. Eh, I think the David Schwimmer-inspired, gelled-up hairdo has a lot to do with the decline. Anyway, Devon would've been about 22 here and when I was 22 I probably looked a lot like him--except browner and female-er. So, I'm not gonna hate or anything. But this guy used to be Casper (!) and it sort of breaks my heart to see the transformation. To me, Devon Sawa's face in Final Destination is emblematic of how insanely depressing aging is and proof of why you should never show anyone photos of yourself when you were 11--you were totally hotter back then and you don't want people making any comparisons.

For men, though, something kind of magical can happen when they reach their 30s. I call this the "Jason Bateman Anomaly." Just think about Jason Bateman in Teen Wolf Too. Now, think about Jason circa Arrested Development...way cuter, right? I found this recent photo of Devon Sawa:

He's no Rick Moranis but he has this Daniel Craig thing going on, and I think it's working for him.

The three girls that middle school boys were into during the mid-90s AKA The three girls I hated during the mid-90s AKA The three girls I desperately wanted to be during the mid-90s

2011-01-23T10:23:00.000-08:00

I preferred Topanga during the first season of Boy Meets World. You know, when she was super into metaphysics and crimped hair. (That shift from loony to normal at the start of the second season was never explained to my satisfaction). But it wasn't until the BMW gang started high school that Cory Matthews began to see her as fodder for his wet dreams/the kind of girl he could eventually marry, stifle, prevent from attending Yale, etc.

What was so great about Topanga? Well, initially, I think it was that prodigious mass of hair on her head.

Because even though she had those pouty lips, that hair was kind of extraordinary. (I can only assume that--like Alec Baldwin--she was injecting steroids into her hair follicles while subsisting primarily on a diet of Mane 'n Tail.) But as the character aged, I think the main draw was her chest. Which was huge. She had big boobs.

During the first couple of seasons of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Ashley was just Will Smith's impressionable little cousin and kind of faded into the background. Sure, she was cute, and every once and a while Tevin Campbell would sing to her or whatever, but no one was really pining after to her.

But then she turned 15 or 16 and became this mega hot chick--10 times hotter than her sister Hilary, who I think was supposed to be the hot chick. I erroneously believed that I'd undergo a similar transformation when I entered high school.

Even though, I always wanted to have hair like hers, the thing I was most jealous about, when it came to Ashley Banks, was that she--well Tatyana Ali--was dating Jonathan Brandis! I still remember how inconsolable everyone was when that news broke--I'd liken it to the day that JFK was shot.

Since The Secret World of Alex Mack aired on Nickelodeon, Alex had to have a higher caliber, cable network-worthy kind of cuteness. And because of that, she's the mid-90s teen girl that men my age really seem to carry a torch for. She was a total tomboy with no boobs to speak of but still, supremely adorable.

In the first episode of the show, a top secret chemical (GC-161) was dumped all over her, giving her the ability to turn into a puddle--a power that was far more useful than you'd think--and even in liquid form, she was totally cute.

Any jealousy I might harbor is superseded by awe--she had the absolute best 90s wardrobe.

I wanted to be this girl when I was 12 and I still want to be this girl at 27.

Tatyana Ali photos [via]

I Suck at Sonic the Hedgehog

2011-01-18T10:02:00.000-08:00

I used to be like that kid from The Wizard when it came to Sonic. In fact, people used to call me "The Wizard" (no one ever called me "The Wizard"). But that was 16 years ago. I currently suck--something that I discovered when I played the game for the first time since the fifth grade. What the hell happened? Seriously.

Swagger

Right off the bat, I'm feeling super fresh because I remember that one of those invincibility boxes is hiding up in this tree. I crack the box open and scream, "KING KONG AIN'T GOT NOTHIN' ON ME!" Naturally, I'm thinking that I'm about to dominate and wondering if Sonic's red sneakers come in my size. In hindsight, this was a mistake. There just isn't any room for cockiness when you're playing Sonic.

Sonic Hates Me

I've been at this for 2 minutes and only have 39 rings. This is not good. When your game controller is idle for a couple of seconds, Sonic starts tapping his foot, giving you the stink eye, etc. This could happen to anyone who steps away from the game without pausing it. Still, it's hard not to take it personally when you're playing so horribly.

From Rags to Riches to Falling off a Cliff

I didn't actually die here, but there are few things in this world that are more demoralizing than losing all of your rings.

Swagger Redux

It seemed my luck was changing. Sure, I only had 38 rings, but I beat the level, got some bonus points, and Sonic flashed me that Japanese peace sign thing. It's hard not to feel fresh after all of that.

Death

A mere 4 seconds into "Green Hill Zone: Act 2" I die while robotic fish leap into the air with indifference.

One Ring to Rule Them All

Here I am. Lord of the ring. Why is it that one ring feels more pathetic than zero?

Bunny Death

The robots attempting to kill me/Sonic throughout the game are actually adorable woodland creatures, trapped by evil Dr. Robotnik, and placed in mechanical bodies. Once you kill the machine, the animal is released. So, even when I was feeling sort of miserable about how poorly I was playing, I was able to take solace in the fact that I'd freed a few animals from Robotnik's clutches. But then I saved a bunny who--within seconds of leaving his mechanical prison--killed himself. It was like The Shawshank Redemption sans Morgan Freeman's warm, all-knowing voice-over.

Power Sneakers

The sneakers you see inside of this 1984 Macintosh computer monitor are like the "Sonic the Hedgehog" version of crank. A second after cracking this box open, I was running in the sky. Afterward, I was tempted to stop playing the game with the intention of winning/leveling up and just trying to find these sneaker boxes. I'm assuming that these boxes were left by Dr. Robotnik in an attempt to manufacture addiction--like the American government's surreptitious introduction of addictive substances into certain "undesirable" populations.

Weak Sauce

The key to "Sonic the Hedgehog" is the spin. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then I don't even know what to say to you. As you can see in this picture, my spin was weak, I couldn't complete the loop, I suck, etc.

One Life to Live

So then I get 39 rings. I'm on my way to having more rings than I've ever had. I die. Of course.

Game Over

I survive for 1:18 on my last life. Maybe I should be proud of that. I could've only survived for 1:17, which would've been really embarrassing.

Meh.

I start a new game, but my heart just isn't into it. I decide to chill on this rock, which turns out to be the highlight of my day.

nostomanic

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